


Take me to the catacombs

by redsprite



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Hastur tries to be in control of something which goes as well as you could imagine, M/M, Maggot Husbands, Multi, Pain Kink, Torture, not even rated for the swears but they're there, too much of a bad thing gone not much better, too much of a good thing gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsprite/pseuds/redsprite
Summary: It’s never a good idea to take work with you on a date, as Hastur has to find out.+The whole angel rescue from the Bastille and the ensuing crepe date had Crowley feel like walking on clouds for days. Maybe that explained why he didn’t see the two demons coming until a hard grip on his arm startled him, and he found himself marched down some streets and then some stairs between the two demons he right now wanted to see the least. It turned out the feeling was mutual.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley/Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens), Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	Take me to the catacombs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteleyFoster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteleyFoster/gifts).



> Sorry, Whitely Foster, this is probably not the kind of fic you were looking for. But I hope you see the gesture behind it, a deeply felt thank you for all you bring to the fandom ;)
> 
> +
> 
> This fic is inspired by
> 
> \- Whiteley Foster’s beautiful art 
> 
> \- the fact that the trio has a dance scene in the 1970s together, and the psychedelic colors in it
> 
> \- the scene in the car where Hastur burns in fire, but Crowley doesn’t
> 
> +
> 
> The fic is a dynamic that I wanted to try out, it’s still messier and not as intense as I wanted it to be, but it’s finished at least. Not beta-read.  
> Hope it’s still fun. Heed the tags!

The whole angel rescue from the Bastille and the ensuing crepe date had Crowley feel like walking on clouds for days. Maybe that explained why he didn’t see the two demons coming until a hard grip on his arm startled him, and he found himself marched down some streets and then some stairs between the two demons he right now wanted to see the least. It turned out the feeling was mutual.

“We had plans for tonight,” said Ligur in a dark tone, “and then we heard you’re up to something weird here, and we need to keep an eye on you. Threw a bit of a spanner in our sex life, I can tell you.”

Hastur nodded. “But then I thought hey, this is Paris, city of love, it hasn’t got to be an either-or, right? You’re going on a date with us. Lucky me, two reptiles for the prize of one, I think we’re going to have a lot of fun!”

It wasn’t the dry rasp in Hastur’s voice that set off alarm bells in Crowley’s gut. It was the firm grip around his arm, and the hard edges in Hastur’s grin. Hastur always was tense, and his grip always was too hard. But this? Crowley had to suppress noises of pain. This wasn’t normal. What did they know? Did they know he had rescued an angel? 

And why was Ligur so grumpy on his date night with Hastur? Crowley was often invited into some fun with these two when there was a party going on down in Hell, and usually Ligur liked it. 

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” he lied. “I don’t know what this is about.”

“This is probably a tricky one, but let me explain,” said Hastur with a cold smile. “You have an assignment in Wales, and instead you stop time in France, mess up some executions, and fuck off with some guy in frills. You should know better than getting attached to humans, but that’s your problem. Our problem is when you ditch your responsibilities, and ruin our date.”

It turned out that Hastur and Ligur’s idea of a romantic place was the fucking catacombs. Of course. 

“Looks a bit like work, but quieter. I like it,” said Ligur. 

“I have high hopes for the acoustic of the tunnels,” said Hastur with a satisfied grin. 

Hastur miracled up two chairs and tied Crowley to one of them, taking his time to open the buttons of Crowley’s shirt. Hastur smelled different today, and Crowley didn’t like any of it, not the close proximity, not his exposed chest, not Hastur’s breath against his skin. Hastur let his fingertips slowly run over Crowley’s chest when he was done until Crowley had goosebumps. Hastur like pretty things, but he also like to mess with them, and Crowley was only too aware of it.

Ligur took his coat off and sat on the other, slowly unbutttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up. He was methodical and serious, only throwing Crowley the occasional menacing glare.

Hastur on the other hand was excited, making sure they all were ready. Crowley didn’t know what for, but he really really wished he’d never had to find out.

It turned out he had to.

With a big grin, Hastur pulled an iron brand from under his coat. It had a long handle, and ended in alchemical symbol of sulphur. Which would actually be very pretty, as Crowley had to admit. If only Hastur wouldn’t fucking heat it up like this, with a push of his palm, and give it such a loving smile.

Crowley started sweating. But it was Ligur Hastur turned to first, grabbing his hand and holding it in a firm grip. “You’re going to be very patient today, aren’t you? But let’s get you warmed up a little at least, hm?”

Hastur pressed the glowing iron against Ligur’s bare wrist. “Three…” hissed Ligur, and Hastur kept the iron in place for a few more seconds. “Four!” barked Ligur, and Hastur took the iron away. The hot metal had barely left a trace on Ligur’s skin, just a blue shadow.

Crowley didn’t like this. If Ligur’s blood was blue right now, he was definitely enjoying himself. Ligur’s blood shone in many colors, depending on his mood, while Hastur’s blood always ran black. Crowley, for the sake of fitting in on Earth, had chosen red. 

Hastur shook his head and gave the iron a sad look. “This beautiful thing is wasted on you reptile demons,” he said. 

He let go of Ligur’s hand, turned to Crowley and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ve not been selfish, I’ve brought things that work on you reptile guys, too. We’re going to be experimental today. But there’s no need to rush things, we can start nice and slow.”

With a wave of his hand, he reheated the iron to its former temperature, glowing a bright yellow, and pressed it hard into Crowley’s chest.

Shitshitshitshitshit...

“Three...” gasped Crowley, and Hastur left the iron in place. It wasn’t a three, it was much worse. Crowley didn’t have a high pain tolerance, but he wasn’t going to give Hastur the satisfaction of giving in immediately. 

After a few seconds, the pain started to get too much to bear silently, and Crowley made a noise and tried squirming away from it. Hastur gave him another second, then took it away. Like with Ligur, the several hundred degree hot iron hadn’t broken skin, just slightly irritated it, but fuck had it hurt.

“That was a five,” said Hastur, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“He said three,” said Ligur.

“Crowley always folds at a five,” said Hastur and chuckled. “That’s the beauty of this. Crowley always tries cheating, and it always bites him into his skinny arse. That’s why you shouldn’t cheat, Crowley. You really shouldn’t. You’re making it worse already and we’re only getting warmed up.”

Ligur grinned and got up from his seat. “Let me try!”

“Oh no,” said Hastur, kicking him in the chest, so he fell back on his seat, and to make his point even clearer, Hastur put his boot on Ligur’s chest to hold him in place. “Don’t you dare. It’s not your turn yet. You will let me have my fun until I say you’re ready.”

“Hastur...” said Ligur with a pleading look, but Hastur just growled at him.

“You know what you did. You better not make it worse.”

Ligur bared his teeth and his eyes cycled through a color sequence that Crowley hadn’t ever seen before.

Hastur’s boot stayed in place. “You can get yourself in trouble now and I’m going to make you wait. You bet I can do this all night and not even come near you. Or you can let me get on with things, keep your fucking temper in check, and see if that doesn’t get you something better.”

Ligur’s eyes glittered annoyance, but Hastur stared him down until he smiled. 

“There,” said Hastur. “There’s that smile that gives me ideas.”

Oh no, thought Crowley. He sincerely hoped he’d lose consciousness before Hastur and Ligur got on with Hastur’s ideas. 

Hastur turned back to Crowley, the iron heating up to a brighter, almost white color. Crowley didn’t like it, didn’t like any of this in fact. For some reason, Hastur had brought him into a date with Ligur, just to piss Ligur off, and it was working. And Hastur enjoyed it. 

Whatever Ligur had done hopefully was worth all this. On some level, Crowley was relieved. Relieved this was about the two Dukes fooling around, not the two celestial agents on Earth fooling around. Still, there was a reason these two usually didn’t invite other demons to the kind of dates that started with ‘have you seen what this can do’ and took them days to recover from. And on a bone deep level, Crowley was really scared now that the glowing iron came this close. He did not like pain the way these two did, and unfortunately, while they were bastards that preferred the company of another bastard rather than just a victim, it looked like today, they were going to make an exception.

Hastur held the iron closer to his own face to admire it – from an angle that gave Ligur a good view of what he was doing - and smiled happily. “So pretty,” he said. Then, for only a second, he held the white hot iron against his own wrist – and screamed. Hastur didn’t have the fire resistance of reptile demons, he was an amphibian type, his skin was soft and thin and broke easily. He had just touched his skin with the side of the iron, for the shortest of time, but it had left a deep grove in his skin, seared from the heat, aggressively black against his pale skin.

“Seven,” he panted, and it took him a few minutes to get his breath back to normal. A lot of tension flowed out of his body with every second of pain, and the smile on his face was now warm and genuine. A dull sheen started covering his skin, and Crowley could smell the scent of Hastur’s toad aspect, bitter, earthy and familiar, it would be amazing on his tongue. 

Crowley could feel the words forming in the back of his head, pressing against his throat. ‘Just one kiss, please!’. Just one kiss would make the pain so much more bearable, a few more would make it forgettable and light the world in vivid colors. Hastur’s skin had a range of hallucinogetic effects. It was the trade-off for the weaknesses of a toad aspect: strength in two elements instead of one, and kisses that made Hell bearable.

But not for Crowley, not today. Crowley was only too aware that this whole show was put on for Ligur, and what it would cost him if he got these words out now. He ought to be glad. Ligur’s presence guaranteed that Crowley wouldn’t say anything. Not about Hastur, and very much not about the guy in frills he’d been seen with.

Ligur had flinched when Hastur had screamed, and now had fixed a hungry glare on his partner, unable to look away even for a second, his eyes cycling quickly through a range of intense blue and purple hues. Yeah. The one kissing himself silly on Hastur tonight wouldn’t be him, it would be Ligur, and Crowley could only hope these two would lose interest in him soon.

Hastur looked incredibly interested in him now though. He smiled at Crowley, bringing the iron closer and closer, and the iron that had cooled to a dark yellow heated up to an intense white again. Crowley started squirming before it even was close enough to touch him. Oh, Hastur liked that.

“Crowley,” he purred. “You’re going to get hurt if you’re struggling. You need to relax. You know the drill.”

No one in the world, not even Ligur who was getting off of this, could look at Hastur holding a white hot brand iron and relax. Crowley kept his mouth shut, but shot Hastur an angry glance.

Hastur chuckled.

“This is going to hurt so much more than it would have to,” he promised, his eyes shining with glee and the reflection of the iron. “Because you never do what you’re told, and this is what it gets you.”

The iron touched Crowley’s skin, and Crowley screamed and frantically tried to move away.

He had no idea how much time had passed before Hastur took the iron away, but it was enough to make Crowley almost pass out. Almost. Hastur wouldn’t make this so easy.

“How much?” asked Hastur.

“Six,” coughed Crowley, fighting the urge to puke. He wasn’t lying this time, he usually passed out at a seven.

“Fucking reptiles,” growled Hastur, as he saw that even this time, the iron had left barely an irritation on Crowley’s skin.

He held the iron in front of his face again, and played with the intensity of the heat. His gaze softened, and he slowly moved his free hand closer to the iron. 

“Hastur, no,” gasped Crowley. 

But Hastur’s hand kept on moving, as if he hadn’t heard him. Before he could touch the glowing iron, Ligur was there and his hand closed firmly around Hastur's burnt wrist, and Hastur screamed again.

Crowley flinched. 

Ligur kept his firm grip for a few more seconds, before he let go and caught Hastur with his other arm. Hastur was indeed very unsteady now and gasped for air in breaths that sounded more like sobs.

“Steady, Hastur,” murmured Ligur. “Hold it. Hold it at a seven. Seven is solid.”

Slowly, Hastur’s breath deepened.

“Very good. Are we done with this fucker now?”

Hastur closed his eyes and nodded.

“Finally.”

Ligur took the iron out of Hastur’s hand, stole a quick kiss from Hastur’s lips, and turned to fix Crowley with a very alarmingly colored stare.

“Listen, Crawly, I don’t know why Hastur is always going so soft on you, but if we ever need to come after you again, I’ll stamp this thing over every single one of your inner organs. Am I making myself clear?”

Crowley nodded.

With a click of his tongue, Ligur transformed the patterned side of the iron brand into a white hot glowing pointed end, and rammed it with great force through Crowley’s right shoulder, and even through the back of the chair.

Crowley yelled out, but mostly from surprise. The pain would follow in a moment.

“Good,” said Ligur coldly, his eyes an alarming shade of red. “Fun time’s over for you. Next time, we won’t be playing around. And now off you piss.”

He clicked his tongue again, and Crowley found himself in a dirty back alley in a part of town he didn’t know, untied, alone, the pain in his shoulder intense enough to nail him to the floor.

Even after he hastily healed himself, it took him a long time before he stopped shaking and could get up and go home.

Next time? There wasn’t going to be a next time. Crowley could deal with Hastur. But Duke Ligur? Heaven, no. There wasn’t going to be a next time now that Ligur had been drawn into things.


End file.
